Red Eyes
by HeCallsMeHisChild
Summary: It has been a few months since Zim buried the smeet he found as he wandered the streets. He begins wandering again, searching for other cast-off smeets. Comes after Green Angel and before White Demon.
1. Tom

**Note: **This is a story that comes after Green Angel and before White Demon. The in-between time when Zim begins collecting cast off children.

* * *

Zim returned to his base and sighed deeply, flicking off his holographic disguise. It had fooled every hyuman but Dib, but then Dib was the only one he didn't need to fool. The Earth courts had made sure Dib couldn't come anywhere near his base or himself. He should have thought of it when he was still bent on conquering. He shook the thought off, it didn't matter now. At least he would have some peace and quiet.

He glanced to the couch. There sat GIR, his eyes glued to the television in front of him. Some Earth primate was on the screen, making faces. He moved past GIR and into the kitchen, pulling out a chair and sitting. He'd been thinking a lot lately, and doing more and more of it in the upstairs portion of his base.

He couldn't stop mulling over the smeet he'd found as he wandered the streets months before. He'd researched death ceremonies for this planet and found them too varied, so he settled for death ceremonies in this land mass they called US.

"So strange for them to name a unit of Earth after a pronoun." He'd mumbled.

His choice had come down to burning her shell and scattering the remains, or burying it exactly six feet below the Earth's surface. He'd chosen the latter, utilizing his PAK mechanisms to help, and erecting a grave. He hadn't known the smeet's name, so he'd engraved, "Buried here was a female smeet, unclaimed," on the stone. In Irkish, of course. He'd added the date she died as an afterthought, remembering that that was important to members of the deceased's family.

"What family?" he'd growled angrily. "Where was her familial unit? Why was she in the streets? And who would hurt a smeet so badly?"

He traced aimless patterns on the table in front of him. Occasionally an antenna twitched, as if flicking away an imaginary fly. He continued to sit until the moon had replaced the sun, and the stars had emerged from hiding. Then he stood, turning on his hologram, and announced loudly, "GIR, I am going for a walk. Stay here and guard the base."

The android turned to him and screamed. "AUGH! WHO ARE YOU?"  
Zim smacked his forehead and sighed. Briefly he turned off his disguise and glared at GIR, who settled down again. Turning it back on, he marched out the door in his usual stiff-legged gait.

At first he stayed on the main street, eyeing the garish, blaring neon lights with distaste. They reminded him too much of Foodcourtia, and his horrible enslavement as a food service drone. A few people milled around, but this city seemed to, as he'd finally learned to say without snickering, "roll up its sidewalks at night."

Stupid earth phrases. Never making any sense.

He turned down an alley behind one of the few places still open at this time, one that seemed to serve intoxications to the adult population of this place. He crouched in a shadow and waited.

It wasn't too long. It never was. Every week at this time, a young male hyuman exchanged monies with another male hyuman for a plastic bag full of chemicals. Zim had taken to observing the hyuman who purchased the chemicals, and what occurred never failed to sicken him.

The young male would take the chemicals and inhale them through his nose, and after that he would begin acting erratically. He would scream and shout, and sometimes cry. He would flail his arms, and occasionally do things Zim could only guess were unacceptable even to the hyuman's culture.

Tonight would be the night, he decided. If he was to be exiled to this stinking planet, maybe he could make something of it. Starting with the cast-off smeets. Granted, this hyuman wasn't quite a smeet, but he didn't seem to be an adult yet. At least, he was never accepted into the intoxication rationing center.

The two hyumans had just parted ways and the one with the chemicals settled down by a garbage receptacle to inhale them when Zim leaped out. The boy was startled. He snatched his bag and shouted, "Get your own crack, you sonofa—"

Zim leaned forward and placed a wet cloth under the hyuman's nose. The boy jerked backward and hit his head on the hard wall of the building, then fell limply to the side. The alien smiled. If hyuman films gave him the idea for this chloroform, them perhaps they weren't so useless after all.

It took some maneuvering to get the boy on the hoverlift he'd brought. He was, after all, still much smaller than most of these wretched creatures, but he manged. With a whisper, he ordered the lift to cloak itself as a hot-dog vendor's cart, and pushed it back to the base, grumbling the whole time.

Once he'd hauled his hyuman down to the lower levels, he pushed him into a specially designed chair and strapped him in. Gingerly he grabbed the bag of chemicals with forceps and set them aside to be analyzed later.

The boy had begun to stir, blinking his eyes sleepily. Zim stationed himself by the boy's head.

"Hyuman child," he asked commandingly, "What is your name?"

"Tom," muttered the boy, squinting at Zim. "Who're you…"

"I am Zim. That is all you need to know about me. That, and the fact that you won't be wanting those chemicals soon."

The boy's eyes widened. "Ya can't detox me, that what this is? I'll die! I tried goin' clean once, felt like it was gonna to kill me!"

Zim rolled his eyes. "Computer, analyze the chemicals in the bag. I want a comprehensive molecular structure, and all possible antidotes to its toxicity. Meanwhile, begin flushing Tom's system of the toxin."

Tom began struggling, shouting, "I didn't consent, ya can't do this. I wanna have a lawyer!"

Ignoring him, Zim turned to the readouts as robotic limbs descended from the ceiling to begin work on Tom. He had an antidote to discover.

* * *

Groaning, Zim massaged his temples. "Let's try this again. Your parental units—your mother and father. Who and where are they?"

"Don't know, don't care." Tom maintained, sticking out his chin defiantly. "Ran away from foster care cause they kept stickin' me with idiots who drank too much or hit me."

"Just go back to this foster whatever. They have care in their name, they have to take care of you."

"But they don't." Tom crossed his arms. "Nobody does. Nobody cares, nobody tries to help. 'Cept you. You're weird, but you did it. I dunno how ya got the drugs outta me without withdrawal, but ya did."

"You can't stay here!" Zim exploded. "This is NOT what I planned. I don't have a place for smeets!"

"I dunno what a smeet is, but I'm not lookin' to stay here free. I can work." He shrugged. "Just tell me what to do, as long as I can stick around. Not like I've got anywhere else."

Zim resisted the urge to drop his disguise and scare the stupid smeet out of his base. If this was what came of him attempting to help hyumanity, hyumanity could just help itself from now on!

* * *

_"Ya done good by us." He muttered awkwardly. "I'd'a still been on dope if'n ya hadn't cleaned it outta my system."_ --Tom, White Demon


	2. Jane

Headaches and antennae pains, that's all that came of taking Tom in. Hyuman smeets had to go to school, so Zim attempted to enroll him in Skool, but found out he needed papers stating he was Tom's guardian. So he had to persuade Tom to return to foster care in order to become what was known as a "Foster Parent". This entailed hyumans poking around his base, inspecting his forged documents, and asking a lot of questions. He made sure GIR remained hidden during inspection.

Finally, he had all the documentation necessary, and Tom moved in. Zim had restricted him to the upper levels, explaining he had some dangerous lab equipment downstairs. Tom asked him about the toilet and trash can leading there, but Zim merely glared at him.

It had taken months for all this to occur, and another two weeks before he could finally get Tom enrolled in Skool. He had long since stopped going, so there was no conflict. At first, Tom had fought Zim on going to Skool, but all it took was Zim reminding him that his stay was contingent on him following Zim's orders. The next day, Tom loaded himself on the bus and glumly rode to Skool for the first time in over a year and a half.

Zim spent many hours searching the hyuman internets for information on how to raise hyuman smeets. Tom had informed him that he was 16, no longer a child but not yet an adult. The internets informed Zim that he had chosen the most difficult age to begin care-taking, a terrible period of time known as being a "Teenager".

So many things they needed! They needed food, they needed Skool supplies, they needed clothings, they needed attention, they needed computers, they needed iPods, they needed vitamins, they needed!

"All I needed was a meal a day and one uniform," Zim grumbled.

When Tom returned, Zim took him to a panel by the couch, grabbed his hand, and pressed it against the panel.

"What're you doin'?" Tom asked nervously.

"Introducing your DNA into the computer system." Zim replied. Hastily, he added, "I have the most advanced computer system in existence, and it is integrated into the house. Now it will recognize that you live here. Follow me."

Zim led him to an empty room he'd had the computer add on to the upper level. "Here. Talk to the computer, it will design your room based on your specifications."

"… huh?"

Sighing deeply, Zim tried again. "Talk to the computer, it will help you make a new room for you."

"Really? That's freakin' sweet!"

"I see no candy, earth-grub, now make your room before I go insane." Zim stalked out, scratching his head through his hologram. He rarely dropped his disguise anymore, he couldn't afford to let Tom see him and blow his cover. ANYONE other than Dib would be a credible witness that could send him to the deepest laboratories of the Swollen Eyeball.

That night, Zim left the base again. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a dim blue glow that signified he was being watched. He snorted in disgust. The Dib never gave up, not even when Earth laws restricted him. He kept as far away as he was told, but no farther.

With the required distance between them, it was as simple as ducking into a few different alleys to lose him. He relished the curses of frustration that saturated the night air.

Something else hung in the night air as well… cries. Zim's antennae perked as he extended his spiderlegs, carefully creeping down the alley as fast as he could. A child's cries. A female, it sounded like. He moved faster, then stopped beneath a window. Lifting himself up, he peered through, his eyes barely clearing the ledge.

An adult male gripped a female smeet by her hair, shaking her like a rag doll. Shouting horrible things, and using his free hand to smack her face. She sobbed, tears mixing with the blood that dripped from her jaw.

In a split second, Zim was in the room. Glass shards clung to his shirt and some had embedded in his body, but he ignored them, glaring at the male in all his tiny alien fury. In his haste, he'd forgotten his hologram, but he didn't care. He _wanted_ this piece of scum to fear him.

The man had frozen, hand stopped in mid-swing, jaw hanging slack. He released the smeet's hair. She promptly scurried away to another room, slamming the door behind her. Zim grinned darkly. He was going to enjoy this.

* * *

Over the next two days, newspapers covered the story of the upstanding citizen found to be an abuser and a lunatic. The man, covered in scratches and badly bruised, swore by his crushed hand that he'd been attacked by a bug-eyed alien about three feet high.

Zim sighed, shoving the newspaper away as he filled out yet another form requesting guardianship of the female smeet, now known to him as Jane. He'd tried to rationalize the reason he'd leaped to defend an Earth smeet, and had managed to convince himself that, although such beatings were acceptable for training on Irk, this had clearly not been for any sort of soldier training. Still, he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that that hadn't been the only reason for his instantaneous reaction to the scene presented. He just couldn't place it.

* * *

_Jane stepped forward. "Daddy would'a beat me dead if ya hadn't stopped 'im."_ –Jane, White Demon


	3. Joey

Jane had not taken to her surroundings as quickly as Tom. At ten years old, she was terrified of everything. If Zim moved too quickly, she cowered. If he raised his voice, she cried. If he slammed a door in frustration, she would freeze and a heartbreaking look would cross her face. For the most part, she avoided Zim as much as possible, and would hide in the room the Computer had designed for her. It had been difficult for the computer, since she refused to speak most of the time, but eventually the room had taken shape to her liking.

"Headaches, both of you!" He grumbled to himself, glaring at the two smeets he'd taken in. Tom was attempting to teach Jane chess, which was difficult since he'd just barely learned it himself. At least he'd seem to take a liking to her, and had taken over some of the responsibilities of caring for her. True, all he could make was a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and he refused to go out and buy Jane clothes on the grounds that a boy his age shouldn't be seen carrying pink t-shirts. On the other hand, he played board game after board game with her, and got her to her classes at Skool.

Once, when Zim began yelling and ranting in frustration, Tom grabbed his arm and pulled him away from the room, where Jane had already begun cowering in the corner. He whispered angrily, "Dude, knock it off. Don't you get it? She's already had enough of that where she came from. She doesn't need it here too. You're supposed to be the safe place, right?"

After that, Zim had done his best to curb his temper, reining in the volume of his voice and refraining from breaking objects. There were many days when such restraint caused him to yank his antennae in silent fury. One evening, as Zim sat in the kitchen, pulling his antennae to the side and scowling at the wall as if it were the cause of all his troubles, a small cold hand touched his arm. Startled, he glanced down to see Jane. As soon as their eyes met, she dropped her gaze to the ground, but the hand remained. His breath caught, and for a moment he wondered if she'd seen him pulling his antennae… then realized his hologram was still on. It would appear to her as if he'd been pulling his hair.

He blinked. Had she wanted him to stop hurting himself? Hesitantly, he put his hand on top of hers. She flinched, but kept the hand where it was. Slowly, painfully, she brought her eyes back up to meet his. She searched his face questioningly. Her lips parted slightly, and a tiny voice issued.

"Did… were you… did you save me?"

Zim blinked, then froze. His eyes, even in the holographic disguise his eyes were red. She had seen him in the split second before she'd fled to her room in her old house—without his disguise. She was drawing the connection.

Hastily he pulled back his hand. "No, no of course not. Silly smeet, it was not Zim."

Her face crumpled, and Zim swallowed hard. "I didn't save you, but I will take care of you." Carefully, he put out a hand and patted her head. "You don't need to be afraid of Zim. I won't hurt you."

Before he could move, her little arms encircled his waist and she was burying her face in his stomach. Surprised, he patted her head again, awkwardly. He glanced up to see Tom peering around the corner, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. Zim glared fiercely, but Tom just snickered quietly, and pulled back. Zim cursed the foolishly soft creature he was becoming, but… still… something inside him warmed to the idea of being something other than a cold, heartless Invader.

* * *

Zim had no idea why he returned to the streets that evening. Wasn't it enough that he'd saved two smeets? He couldn't single-handedly support the entire population of discarded Earth dirt-children. And yet he found himself marching along new streets in a part of the city that seemed filthier than the others. Huge signs blared, advertising places where gentlemen could meet. Others boasted they had nothing but girls. Still others coaxed the viewer with promises of love. More chemicals than Zim cared to count exchanged hands, and bottles of intoxication lay everywhere. Zim ignored it all. He kept his antennae perked for one sound. The sound of sobs.

And they came. From inside a seedy motel, the sound of cries came, muffled and choked. Zim let his instincts take over, not even bothering to question them anymore. He tried to peer in the window, but the blinds had been drawn. He pulled x-ray binoculars from his PAK and peered through the door.

After a few seconds, he dropped the binoculars, ignoring the crash they made. Clutching his squeedly spooch, he turned and vomited their contents onto the sidewalk. He had been forced to read about the filthy hyuman breeding rituals in his classes at Skool, but this…

He spat the last of the bile out of his mouth and turned toward the door, hatred making a frozen puddle in the middle of his organs. Extending all his spiderlegs, he pointed them at the door and blasted it open with his lasers.

* * *

Papers puzzled over the anonymous tip-off that brought down a ring of child traffickers. The dead "customer" was the topic of wonder as well, for it appeared his throat had been ripped out, as if by a wild animal. That and the burned out doorway made for endless speculation as to who or what had really broken the secrecy of the ring.

Zim had spent hours running cleansing chalk through his mouth and over his teeth. The vile taste of hyuman blood lingered far too long for his preference. But it had been worth it. He hadn't even bothered with the normal channels this time. He'd merely scooped up the all but unconscious little boy and returned to the base as quickly as possible. After ordering the Computer to begin forging papers for guardianship, Zim placed the smeet in a nutrient-rich bath that would aid the healing process for his many bruises and wounds.

He'd managed to extract the smeet's name and age—Joey, age 6—before he'd slipped into unconsciousness. It was actually rather fortunate, Zim reflected grimly, that he was barely awake. All he would remember would be a nightmare of a horrible man, and some creature with red eyes that saved him.

* * *

_Joey lisped, "You ga' me safe place from mean people."_ –Joey, White Demon.


	4. Tiana

Zim grumbled to himself as he shoved the last of his dangerous lab equipment into the farthest chamber of the deepest underground portion of his lab he could find. He noted, however, that there was considerably less anger in his grumbling than usual. There was almost, he realized with a grimace, a note of cheer in his complaints.

_I can sink no lower,_ His thoughts moaned.

He'd come to the conclusion that there was only so much expansion that could take place aboveground. The neighbors, though nonplussed by the wires and tentacles that invaded their buildings, screeched bloody murder when their fences mysteriously moved during the night. He'd begun to accept the fact that looking after multiple smeets would be his main mission at present, and that more would probably follow. He'd begun renovation shortly after Joey joined them, installing beds and converting the vast underground vaults into multiple individual rooms.

He'd managed to keep GIR down in the labs up to this point, but with the smeets moving about freely, he'd have to explain the insane robot sooner or later. Come to think of it, he hadn't seen GIR downstairs all morning.

He checked his timepiece and took the lift upstairs to make sure the smeets returned home from Skool safely. Joey was dragging something behind him, rushing toward the house eagerly. To his horror, Zim realized Joey had GIR in tow—sans his disguise.

"Thim! Thim!" Zim grimaced. The child had some sort of speech impediment that distorted his use of the letters Z, S, and R. "Thim, I found him, I found him, can I keep him? He'th a wobot, I wanna have a wobot. Wobot'th awe cool!"

Zim's mouth twitched in a smirk. "You want to keep him, huh?" He glanced at Jane and Tom. Both eyed Joey enviously, and Zim could see Tom wishing he'd found the robot first.

"Tell you what. As long as you make sure he stays in the house, you can all keep him. He's a pet, yes? You all want a pet? But make sure that if you take him outside, you put this on him." Producing GIR's costume, he gave a self-satisfied grin. "It will make him less conspicuous."

Tom stared at the disguise, then sat down hard, laughing. "Dude, are ya serious? It's green! It's a friggin' green dog costume, what could stand out more?"

Glaring, Zim snapped, "Just do as I say. I am Zim! And I am brilliant." Sulking, he dropped the costume and glanced at Joey. The boy sat with the robot, playing some nonsensical game involving patting hands and chanting rhymes. His frown softened some. "Of course the stupid robot stays."

* * *

Zim didn't have to look far that evening. He had only to open his door to find a young girl—maybe four years old—shivering on his doorstep. He took a step back, shocked. "What… who are you? Where are your parental… where's your Mom and Dad?"

The little girl clutched a large ratty blanket close, staring at him. In one hand she clutched a crumpled piece of paper. Gently, Zim pried it out of her hand and raised it to the light.

_To the owner of this orphanage,_

_ I heard you take in children. I heard you run your orphanage differently, and that children receive special care here. I can't take care of Tiana anymore. I've run out of money. I will come back for her, but I can't take care of her right now. Please take her in until I find work._

_ --Genna Menali_

Zim blinked, staring at the paper for a moment. Placing it in his pocket, he knelt in front of the smeet—_Of course you can sink lower, Zim, you're kneeling to a hyuman smeet—_and put out a hand.

"Hello, smeet. Tiana, yes? My name is Zim. I'm going to be taking care of you for awhile."

"Another one?" Tom peered over his shoulder. "Hey Zim, mebbe you should open up an orphanage if ya keep takin' kids in."

The alien turned his head, frowning in confusion. "What is an orphanage?"

Tom stared, as if he couldn't quite make Zim out. "It's… it's a place where kids go who don't have moms and dads. Then if some moms and dads want a kid, they come get a kid."

Zim tilted his head to the side, and contemplated Tiana. She shivered, clutching the blanket. Gently, he put his arms out and drew her in, closing the door behind her.

"That's not a bad idea, Tom." He murmured.

"Really?" Tom brightened. "Neat! Hey, what would ya call it?"

Zim smiled. He knew exactly what he would call it.

* * *

A month later, and many many many monies spent, Zim stood back, proud of his handiwork. A large banner hung from the top of his base. "Green Angel Orphanage." It had a small greenish blob with wings on the side, courtesy of Jane. Zim had taken the liberty of adding a pair of antennae. "No reason," he'd maintained when questioned by Tom. "Just a whim."

* * *

_He realized he was covered by a worn, tattered blanket. His eyes rose to meet Tiana's. Tiana, who was never separated from her safety blanket, but had laid it over him._ –Tiana, White Demon.

_"Ya done good by us." Tom reiterated firmly. "So we do good by you. No matter what. 'Sides," he grinned, "Think yer eyes're cool."_ –Tom, White Demon

THE END

**Note: **Yeah, not the best ending, but this is really meant to bridge Green Angel and White Demon. Be alert for the last story in the series, most likely to be titled Black Ties.


End file.
